Damon Prison World Pancakes Mga Nobela at Kwento

Damon pondered before answering, "It's been a while since I've had your pancakes. I'd like those." Lydia's face brightened. "Alright, I'll make them now." She headed to the kitchen, her steps noticeably lighter. Meanwhile, Damon grabbed a change of clothes and stepped into his bathroom to shower. When he emerged, Lydia had just finished placing a steaming batch of fresh pancakes on the dining table. "Mr. Sumner, the pancakes are ready. Would you like to eat now?" she asked. "Yeah," Damon replied. He sat at the table and had just taken a bite when Spencer arrived.

“You’re about to burn that.” “It’s called golden brown, thank you very much,” Damian says, flipping a pancake with a confidence he absolutely hasn’t earned. It lands perfectly. He smirks. “Told you.” I raise an eyebrow. “Beginner’s luck.” “Or raw talent.” “Uh-huh.” He brings over a plate, three uneven pancakes stacked proudly and sets it in front of me. “For you, chef Damian’s first masterpiece.” I taste it. Sweet, buttery, a little too much vanilla, but still good. “Not bad.”

Brandon stood by the counter like a proud chef, spatula in one hand and a smug smirk on his face. “Morning, oh mystical one,” he teased, sliding a plate stacked with pancakes toward me. I gave him a look. “Call me that again and I’ll tell Mom you were the one who ate the last cookie she was saving for Dad.” His smirk faltered. “You wouldn’t.” I took the plate and grinned sweetly. “Try me.” Damian walked in, shirtless as usual, nursing a protein shake like it owed him money. “She’s awake. That’s good.”

"Now please don't burn the pancakes." Sebastian burned the pancakes. The kitchenette smelled like smoke and desperation. The first batch was black on the outside, raw on the inside. The second batch was better—gray instead of black, slightly cooked through. The third batch was almost edible. Damian set the table—paper plates, plastic forks, the orange juice that was probably expired. Alex found a clean glass and filled it with water. Sebastian carried the plate of pancakes to the table, his good shoulder carrying most of the weight.

Damon raised his plates, his brows puckered as he gazed at Tiana. "Is there a problem Damie boy?" A mischievous smile tugged the side of her life and she arched her brows at him. "Are you really asking that? I got no juice, no pancakes. All I have is an empty plate." He whined. Tiana pressed his lips together," I thought you were mad at me and wouldn't want to eat the pancakes I made. Also, I remember asking you to give me a hand but you said you won't." She shrugged.

They moved with precision surrounding Damon's rogues before they could react. I dropped down from the rooftop and landed in front of Damon. My alpha authority radiated outward making the air itself feel heavy. "Damon Parkins you're under arrest for attempted kidnapping, conspiracy, and terrorism against Moonfall Pack. Stand down." For a moment I thought he would surrender. His rogues were outnumbered three to one and weapons were pointed at them from all sides. Then Damon started laughing. The sound was unhinged and manic echoing off the warehouse walls. "You think you've won? You think this is over?"

“Or he’s using the art of stematography.” I blink at Damon. “Stematowhat?” “Hiding the prize in plain sight,” Damon adopts a thoughtful expression. “Pakhan never appreciates the men. Instead, he pays them better than they work. Just like the fire party, we were dressed as slaves, while you were dressed like a prince. Chocolates in place of pork. Pina colada instead of whiskey. He never tells, always shows.” Damon grins. “Mad-Bishop’s has a pattern.”

"No school? Yay! We get to stay with Mama all day!" Landon added, a grin spreading across his face, "We can play games and have a picnic in the park!" Liam, always the quiet one, looked up at me with wide eyes. "Can we make pancakes for breakfast, Mama?" Tears welled up in my eyes as I nodded, overwhelmed by their love and the warmth of our reunion. "Of course, my sweet boy. We'll make pancakes together, and we'll have the best day ever." As we gathered in the kitchen, laughter and joy filled the air. The children chattered excitedly, sharing their dreams and stories from their time apart. Damien watched us, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and adoration.

Handing over her plate, they all look at me so proud. “Now do Damien, Miss Lola,” Gio says, daring me with a smirk. At least with him, I know his morning brew of choice. From last night I know he likes thin pancakes. His build tells me he needs protein too. “Damien wants empty crepes. But stuff them with scrambled eggs and bacon. Oh, and black coffee,” I say with confidence. Looking at Damien makes me blush. He grins while placing his plate down with even more pride. “Now do me,” Gio says, stroking his beard and eyeing me.